


Whispered Objections

by ArgentLives



Series: live in gal pals [33]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Smile</em>, she tells herself, like always, like that’ll somehow make the muscles in her face work any better. <em>You should be happy for them.</em></p><p> </p><p>[Iris is in love with Linda, Linda is in love with Iris, and Patty is in love with both of them, but Iris and Linda are getting married, and Patty will never be a part of that equation.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispered Objections

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: "things you said too quietly"

In theory, this really shouldn’t be so difficult. After all, she’s always been an expert at hiding things behind a smile, hurt and anger and guilt and pain and parts of herself she keeps locked away behind a deceptively sunny disposition. Why should heartbreak be any different?

 _Smile_ , she tells herself, like always, like that’ll somehow make the muscles in her face work any better. _You should be happy for them_.

Except she can’t and she…it’s not that she isn’t. Happy for them. Because they’re her friends, and they look so happy together, it’s just…she wants so badly to be a part of that happiness that it’s like someone’s got their hand around her heart, fingers digging and digging and squeezing so hard it _hurts_.

Linda beams at Iris like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and Patty really can’t blame her, because she’s really not wrong. Iris smiles back at Linda with tears shining in the corners of her eyes and dimples in her cheeks, looking at her soon-to-be wife like she’s got the sun in her smile, and they’re both so unbearably happy and unfairly breathtaking in their pretty white dresses that Patty couldn’t look away even if she tried, even though watching them watch each other with those looks on their faces is shattering her heart into a million tiny pieces.

She’s not even sure who she’s more jealous of. Well, that’s not true – it’s both. It’s always been both. These two women who she’s fallen hard for who have only ever had eyes for each other, and she’d thought it’d been hard watching them act all lovey-dovey on all their regular get night outs, longing to be a part of it, a part of _them_ , but this is so much worse. Because as much as she hates to admit it, as foolish and ridiculous and pathetic as it makes her feel, she’s always sort of held onto this tiny sliver of hope, deluding herself into thinking that maybe Iris would look at her in a certain way or Linda’s touch would linger just a moment too long, this possibility that maybe, _maybe_ …But now, watching and listening to them say their vows but not really hearing a thing, she knows that there’s no place for her in an equation that’s always only equaled two.

She’s barely processing what’s being said, but the officiant’s  _‘objects’_ and _‘speak now, or forever hold your peace’_ catches her attention, ringing loudly in her ears because she wants to scream it at the top of her lungs, wants to re-enact one of those cheesy cliched movie scenes and run up to the altar and kiss Iris before Linda can, and kiss Linda before Iris can, and be with them both and both hold them together and keep them apart and–

“I object,” she whispers under her breath, staring down at her shoes, too long after she knows the moment has already passed, too quiet to be heard over the resounding  _‘I do’s’_ and the applause that follows. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to block out the noise of the happy cheers around her, the image of the women she’s in love with sealing the deal, but she can still see it even with her eyes closed, Iris kissing Linda and Linda kissing Iris and the two of them so blissfully, perfectly content to just have _each other_.

Not for the first time today, and certainly not for the last, she feels sick to her stomach. At least all of their friends are all big criers too; it’s easy enough to pass off the wetness on her cheeks as tears of joy, of happiness for the happiness of these friends that she values, instead of what they really are.

Not that it matters. Nobody really notices, anyway. She’s not a part of what and who’s being celebrated, no matter how much she wishes she could be. And one and one will never equal three.


End file.
